“Who knows whether, if I had given up smoking, I should really have become the strong perfect man I imagined? Perhaps it was this very doubt that bound me to my vice, because life is so much pleasanter if one is able to believe in one's own latent greatness”
― Italo Svevo

What do you do when you’re a teenager, wanting to feel grown up? Hmmm? You could spend some of the money you earned, washing dishes in the pub, on a packet of cigarettes. Least, that’s what me and some mates did; aged 14. First you decide who’s going to buy the cigarettes, then where to meet. Coombe Hill, rose up from our village in the Chilterns. Having met somewhere nearby, we’d stride with a sense of purpose, towards the summit; whereupon stood the monument. When we felt we were safe enough from prying eyes, we would stop and pull out the packet of cigarettes. Fighting the wind, there would be several hands cupped around one match, as it swayed either side of the waiting tobacco stick. Three, maybe four matches later, it was lit. Fingers were a little singed, but what the heck. The others could now be lit from the first. Like passing the torch.

Not only did we feel big, we felt clever. You see, we’d bought Consulate Menthol. No one was gonna smell the stale tobacco on our breath with that cheeky disguise… right? Yeh, right!

Didn’t matter that Government health warnings were emblazoned on every packet of tobacco products. You knew it wasn’t good for your health anyway, but it still seemed cool at the time. Remember, this was about feeling grown up. 

In those days, racing cars still advertised the likes of Benson & Hedges cigarettes. So... smoking’s gotta be cool, eh? What boy didn’t fancy a bit of that adrenalin pulsing dream? The speed and power; winner’s rostrum; beautiful girls throwing themselves at you.

Then there were the Marlboro ads, alluding to the sense of freedom that sucking on these things gave you. Again male machismo. This time the gritty, pioneer experience that came with these modern day cowboys. Hard not to want to buy into this either. 

These arguments seemed far more persuasive than the risks to our health. I mean come on, seriously? We were teenagers...these things didn’t happen to young people. 

Hell, back when I was growing up, if you wanted bohemian, you stayed up and watched some French movie.....to the end! The plots weren’t always easy to follow, that’s for sure. They felt almost subversive at times. Bearing in mind colour television was positively exalted, the fact that many of these films were in black and white, massively added to the atmosphere. Let’s not forget, I was a teenage boy, feeling life and looking for inspiration. Sheesh, I even wrote poetry. It simply wasn’t a proper French movie, unless it was black and white...and the cigarette smoke practically seaped out of the television vents. 

Is this what we were buying into when my mate and I dropped off the back of the school’s Physical Education cross country run? Phil and I would lurk behind the garages of a nearby housing estate and pull on our Gauloises. Sheesh they were strong! More kick than the toothpick roll ups I’d normally inhale, that’s for sure.

There were risks involved. Granted. We weren’t concerned in those days with our long term health, so much as getting an ear-bashing from one of the teachers and getting stuck in detention; missing the first available bus away from that place. You know, those risks were real.

Don’t get me wrong. This short article isn’t a health warning in disguise. It’s just an observation, a reminiscing.

There are many times nowadays I see shop workers and the like braving frost bite, as they get their fix leaning against some cold, hard, often grubby wall outside. Does that image make me want to pick up the old habit? No chance! It looks thoroughly desperate and miserable.

There are, however, many instances, when I see people on the Street, immersed in their own world for just a few minutes, as they take a smoke break. At times, they press those things to their lips almost as if it were the touch and kiss of a lover.  That look of pleasure or abandon is almost serene. These are the scenes that compel me to take a shot!

“Larry call a load of smoke in, I wanna lose a couple days.” (...a line borrowed from Catfish & The Bottlemen: “7”)